Glass
by JenniGellerBing
Summary: Jim can't forgive Bones for refusing to let him die. Kirk/McCoy angst, post-STID.


A/N: First foray into Star Trek fiction. Post-STID. Thanks for reading.

There had been a while – a short while – when the biggest things Jim had to worry about were how much Romulan ale he could sneak onto the Enterprise during their next shore leave, how he could make meatloaf come out of the replicator in the shape of turkey to celebrate the old American holiday Thanksgiving, and whether or not he was going to tell his crew that their captain and Chief Medical Officer were sleeping together.

It was a pressing enough issue while it lasted, in the brief period of calm in Jim's life between what would go down as two of the biggest catastrophes of modern day Starfleet history. Jim didn't like hiding things from the crew; Bones didn't like his private life becoming fodder for crew gossip. It started as bickering and became a shouting match every time; it was the only thing he and Bones really went at it about, and Bones was probably right, in the end. While Spock and Uhura could simply register their relationship Starfleet and go about their business, there was no precedent for a starship captain getting involved with one of his bridge crew, as Bones liked to remind him. This seemed to be one of the unspoken rules of captainship, but Jim hadn't ever followed a rulebook and he sure as hell wasn't going to start now.

He generally liked to give Bones a hard time about being an old stick in the mud, but he knew he and Bones were wading into the unknown, clinging to each other. The fear of getting the order to send Bones away made him break out in a cold sweat, and so he kept his mouth shut.

But that was before Jim got the Enterprise taken away from him and then given back. That was before a madman from the past woke up and tried to destroy Starfleet. That was before Jim died.

!0!0!0!0!0

After Jim died and came back, Bones kept him sedated and confined to quarters for three days. He slipped in and out of consciousness, aware that he was being watched; sometimes Uhura was there, sometimes Scotty, sometimes Spock. He found out later that Bones and Spock spent four straight shifts falsifying medical records, deleting security holovids, erasing all evidence that Jim had ever died and that Bones had committed an ethical atrocity, a violation of the Prime Directive a hundred times over, to bring him back. The official story passed along to the few members of the crew who had been present when Jim had been declared dead had been a tricorder malfunction, which they swallowed easily, as no other explanation seemed possible; the theft of Khan's blood from his unconscious body had happened in a supply room where security vids couldn't reach.

Under different circumstances, Jim would have been pleased to see Bones and Spock agreeing so much and working so well together, but as it was he was merely struck dumb with horror, a silent, brooding repulsion. He could not bear to think too much about what they'd done.

On the night before they were all to beam down to headquarters for their official debriefing, Bones brought his medical equipment into Jim's quarters and spent an hour putting Jim's body through the paces. It seemed to work the same as it had before, as far as Jim could tell, except that he felt stronger, much stronger than he should have.

Bones barely spoke through the examination. When it was over, he pronounced Jim "fit as a fiddle," and gathered his things. Jim felt as if his skin was crawling as Bones headed for the door.

"Bones," Jim said. "Where are you going?"

"Leavin' you to get some rest," Bones said gruffly.

"You can stay," Jim said, hating the plaintive note in his voice. He'd thought he was past this with Bones, this immature, desperate need, but he hadn't slept the night before and Bones hadn't kissed him since he'd come back to life and he was tired, so tired of it.

"I shouldn't," Bones murmured, more to himself than to Jim.

"What's wrong?" Jim asked, stupidly. He felt like he was looking at Bones through a soundproof glass wall a million meters high, because a lot of things were wrong. He knew that Bones had not yet forgiven him for asking for Spock, not Bones, at the end; he knew that he himself had not yet forgiven Bones for refusing to let him die.

"Nothing," Bones said. "Just tired. Why don't you go to sleep. Long day tomorrow."

"I'm not made of glass," Jim said quietly. "You can touch me. I _want_ you to touch me." He didn't realize how true it was until he said it out loud: he craved Bones's hands, his mouth, his everything. He wanted to be wrapped in the other man, in a safe place where he wasn't terrified by everything, including his own body.

Bones turned to face him, and in the dim lights his face was contorted. "Shouldn't."

"You're not going to break me," Jim said, a bit pleadingly, which he hated, because James T. Kirk did not plead for anything. "I'm okay."

And then suddenly Bones had all but collapsed on the bed next to him, and his face was in his hands, and his shoulders were shaking, but there was no way Bones was crying because he'd never seen Bones cry, and if Bones was crying that must mean that something had been irreparably broken.

"Bones," he said, his voice catching.

"You were dead," Bones hissed, and his eyes were bright and piercing. "You were _dead_, Jim, you were dead right there on my table. I had to call it. No life signs, 1700 hours. Do you have any idea what that was like for me?"

"No," Jim said honestly. "Pretty awful, I bet." He grinned, a half, teasing smile, and it felt foreign on his face but he didn't know what else to do, and the glass wall cracked a bit as Bones rubbed last tears out of his eyes with the heels of his hands and scowled.

"Understatement of the fucking year," Bones said. "You fucking bastard. Going in there – self-sacrificing asshole – don't even get me started – "

"I wasn't gonna," Jim said, and then Bones had thrown his arms around Jim's neck and was clinging to him like a life raft, like he might drown if he ever let go. Jim felt his weight like a brick in his stomach, because it all clicked suddenly, and he was Bones's life raft, his tether, and Bones had done the unthinkable because living with the alternative was even more unthinkable. The brief flash of understanding was a heavier load than Jim could have imagined.

He didn't know what to do, so he kissed Bones, and it felt almost like the first time again, all uncertainty and shaking hands, and Bones kissed him back desperately, and Jim felt something break inside of him, because somehow it felt like he was saying hello and goodbye all at once.

!0!0!0!0!0!0

Jim had read Spock's official report three times. It was true up until the very end; in this version, Scotty got the Enterprise back online just in the nick of time, Spock and Uhura captured Khan and turned him over to Starfleet Command immediately, and there was no reason for Jim to die. Spock and Bones had written this report together, and Jim knew he would be expected to re-tell this version of the events, frame by frame, at Command.

They went over the story one last time in the Captain's ready room. It was the middle of gamma shift, and they were beaming down at 0600. Spock had not needed to explain why this report was so important. Jim already knew that if the Admiralty ever discovered what had happened, all five of them – he, Spock, Bones, Uhura and Scotty, the only people in the world who knew that James T. Kirk had died – would be dishonorably discharged from Starfleet. Spock and Bones would be court-martialled. Jim himself would become a subject of intense study, a modern medical miracle, an ethics committee example, a moral quagmire.

He stayed silent until Spock had finished speaking. "What if I want to tell the truth?"

They stared at him.

"You have never before taken issue with lying to Command in official reports," Spock said pointedly, raising one eyebrow.

"Maybe this is different," Jim said stoically. Scotty shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"You realize, Captain, that this would mean an end to all of our careers," Spock said evenly. "You would never again be allowed on a starship. Your return from death might even be considered a threat to the security of the Federation."

"Do _you_ think I'm a threat to the Federation, Spock?" Jim asked, and the tension in the room ratcheted up another level.

There was a moment's hesitation. "No," Spock said. "I do not."

"Then it's settled. We'll tell the real story," Jim said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. He watched as Spock looked at Bones.

"Jim," Bones said, and his tone is wheedling. "Come on. We've been over this. We're doing what we need to do."

"I don't remember being consulted on _what_ _we need to do_," Jim said, his tone light. "You know. Before you froze me, stole blood from a deranged genetically engineered superhuman, and stuck it in my body. Isn't that the kind of thing you ought to run by your captain, _Doctor_?"

The words hung in the air. Jim stared Bones down, feeling like he was looking at a stranger. "You were dead," Bones said quietly. "You weren't the captain anymore."

And suddenly Jim was furious, was seeing bright stars in his eyes when he looked at Bones. "Maybe I should have stayed dead," Jim roared. Uhura startled at the sudden noise.

"Is that what you would've preferred?" Bones challenged sarcastically.

"It would have been better than this," Jim said, his breathing ragged.

"You don't mean that," Bones said, so quietly it was almost a whisper, and Jim looked away and pretended he hadn't heard.

"What's done is done, Captain," Spock said. "I am filing this report as it stands. Unless you would like to file your own report, this will go on record."

Jim stood up. "Your funeral, Spock." He laughed harshly. "Should've been mine." He walked slowly around the table and had almost reached the door when he slammed his fist into the wall. When he pulled back his hand, he saw that the wall was dented. He looked at his knuckles; they were bleeding. He could feel the eyes of the room on the back of his head, and he left without another word.

!0!0!0!

Life continued despite Jim's better judgment. The official report was accepted – with no other reports available, there was no reason to question it. Jim and Spock were declared heroes and given more medals, which Jim dropped in a drawer in his quarters and never looked at again. The Enterprise underwent repairs. Jim felt like he was carrying around a rock on his shoulders, a burden that kept him constantly on the brink of being crushed. He didn't sleep much. He found that he felt better when he was alone during the day, but at night, he slipped into Bones's quarters at Command, silently, and let Bones touch every inch of his skin and capture his mouth with bruising kisses and stroke his hair until he fell asleep. His dreams were full of engine rooms that had no doors, glass that he couldn't break no matter how hard he tried, and he woke gasping for breath.

The day he got his orders to return to the Enterprise, he felt the burden grow lighter. They had given him back his ship; he was to captain a five-year mission of exploration. He had most of his crew back, including Bones, whose normal crippling aviaphobia seemed to dissipate in the wake of Jim's almost-death.

As Jim sat in the bed in Bones's quarters and Bones packed, Bones kept up a constant stream of chatter, gossip about their crew, predictions about the kind of missions they'd be sent on. Jim nodded and smiled at all the right moments.

"What's eating you?" Bones said. "Thought you'd be excited to get back up there in the black."

"I am," Jim said simply.

"You're sure as hell not showing it," Bones said. He sat down next to Jim on the bed. "Out with it, kid."

"Do you ever," Jim said, "think about what things would be like if I'd just stayed dead?"

"I try not to," Bones said gruffly.

"I do," Jim said. "All the time." He leaned back in the bed and pillowed his head on his hands.

Bones looked down at him. "Jim. Please don't."

"Can't stop," Jim said. "What does your psych degree have to say about that?" He felt a twisted grin split his face. Bones just stared at him. Jim wondered if he could kiss away the look of horror on his face, but he couldn't find the energy to try.

!0!0!0!

Up in the black, Jim was busy. He liked busy. There were reports to sign off on, landing parties to lead, aliens to negotiate with. On the bridge, he was still Captain Kirk. And if he wasn't sleeping much – if he was catching only a few hours in between shifts, cat naps, really, with Bones's arms locked around him and keeping him from floating away – nobody noticed.

He knew Bones noticed when he arranged their schedules to be on opposite shifts, but Bones didn't say anything. He slipped into the CMO's quarters late at night, when he knew Bones would already be in bed, and curled up against Bones's back. Bones touched him hesitantly now, nervously, as if worried he might break, and Jim hated him for it.

As they lay awake one night afterwards, silent and sated, Bones whispered into his ear, "Can't you understand why I did it?"

Jim didn't ask him what he was talking about. "No," he said. "And yes."

"The Enterprise needs you," Bones said. "Starfleet needs you. Everybody here needs you." It went unspoken but loudest of all: _I need you_.

Jim shifted in bed, uncomfortably. They spoke of it so rarely that there seemed to be so much and so little to say every time it came up, always at night, under the cover of darkness, when they didn't have to look each other in the eye. "You did it because you were angry," Jim said. "Angry at me. Because I didn't have Scotty comm you." Jim felt Bones stiffen in his arms.

"I've never asked why, and I don't want to know," Bones said, but he was lying. Jim wondered how he could ever explain it. He barely knew himself.

"You shouldn't have done it," Jim said, feeling his hands start to shake.

"You make it sound like I did it all for myself," Bones said. "Like there ain't nobody else benefitting from you not being dead."

"Is there?" he asked, and Bones didn't answer.

That night, Jim didn't sleep at all.

!000!000!

Soon they were fighting more than they were fucking and talking least of all. It was little things: Jim left his dirty gold command shirts all over Bones's quarters. Bones flirted too much with Nurse Chapel. The tension crackled between them at all hours. It almost made Jim miss their old fight, the one fight they'd always had – telling the crew about them. It seemed like another lifetime. Jim never asked anymore. He sometimes wondered if there was even anything left to tell.

When the tension finally snapped, Jim couldn't say he hadn't expected it. A routine mission gone wrong – how many times had Jim had that thought before? – a simple moment at the beginning of his shift, signing off on Bones's medical report for the past day, when suddenly Uhura was interrupting, and the comm panels were beeping, and finally, finally, something was happening.

The distress call from nearby Volan III left little to the imagination: Klingons had crossed into Federation space and fired upon an unarmed village. There were dozens dead and hundreds wounded, and the Klingons had taken off as suddenly as they had arrived. Activity on the bridge kicked into high gear, and Jim felt the rush of adrenaline buzzing through his veins.

"Captain, the warbird is leaving the sector," Sulu said. "If we pursue, we might be able to catch it."

"Jim, we've gotta get down there and help those people," Bones said. "Send down a landing party with my team and supplies."

"Sulu, pursue the warbird," Jim said, ignoring Bones.

"Now you wait just a second and let my team transport down there," Bones said. "The Klingons can wait, there are people down there who need us."

Sulu looked back at them, his eyes darting between the captain and the CMO. "Sulu, pursue, that's an order," Jim said firmly, before rounding on Bones. "Bones, prepare your team, you'll beam in as soon as we track down the Klingons. They've crossed into the neutral zone and attacked an unarmed colony, and we're not letting them get away with it."

"Getting revenge is more important than saving lives now?" Bones cried. "This is against regs and you know it – "

"I'll thank you not to question your captain's decisions," Jim interrupted. "Now prepare your team – "

"Dammit, Jim, just because you don't give a damn whether you're dead or alive doesn't mean everybody else feels the same!"

The bridge fell silent. Jim could feel Spock's eyes on the back of his head. He stood up so he was nose-to-nose with Bones. "Get the fuck off my bridge right now, McCoy." Bones's eyes hardened. "Did you hear me? Get out of here. That's an order."

They were too late to catch the Klingon warbird before it crossed out of the neutral zone, and 49 people died on Volan III. Bones's official report stated that he thought they could have saved more people if they'd beamed down earlier. When Jim returned to his quarters three shifts later, he found a pile of clean gold shirts, folded neatly, just inside the door. He felt viciously satisfied, but starting that night, he couldn't sleep.

!0!0!0!

Coffee and stims only worked for so long. The sleepless nights became more frequent, stretching from days into weeks. Jim couldn't adjust to Bones's stilted, formal reports, to having the bed to himself, to waking up screaming (when he could doze off at all) without comforting hands and shushing lips.

He and Bones continued to orbit around each other, and Jim wondered if he would ever sleep again.

48 hours of shore leave on Risa had only one meaning for him. He had to find something to help him sleep; he had to escape. If Spock and Bones figured out how bad it had gotten, it would be over. If they knew how little he was sleeping, if they knew how bad his nightmares were, if they knew how often he imagined climbing into a shuttlecraft and flying into a black hole, he'd be relieved. If he lost command, if he lost the very last thing he was clinging to, the blackness would swallow him whole.

The pills the Risan pharmacist gave him smelled like smoke and synthehol. "Take one and you'll be out for 12 hours," the orange-skinned man told him. He went back to the Enterprise and took three. His mind finally felt quiet. He dreamed of nothing.

"_Captain? Captain? Jim, I know you're in there." _It was Spock's voice, drifting in from far away.

"Sleeping," Jim muttered, and he smiled.

"_My god, what the hell are these?" _ That was Bones. He didn't like that. He wasn't welcome in Bones's quarters, and Bones wasn't welcome in his. "_What did he take?_"

When he woke next, the biobed under him was beeping out his heart rate. His head felt like it was full of cotton. He opened his eyes, and it was too bright; he cringed and closed them again.

"You're awake."

"Brilliant diagnosis, Doctor McCoy," Jim said, and his voice was scratchy as if from disuse. "What happened?" He opened his eyes, squinting. Bones stepped into the private room and shut the door behind him.

"You've been out for four days," Bones said. "You had a severe allergic reaction to an unknown Risan fruit." His eyes narrowed. "At least that's what we told the crew."

Jim raised one eyebrow. "And in your professional opinion, what actually happened?"

Bones scratched his head. There were bags under his eyes. "You took three doses of an unregulated Risan sleep aid. Spock reckons you took numbers two and three by mistake," Bones said wryly. "If that helps him sleep at night, I'll let him believe it. What I don't understand is why, Jim."

"Why what?" Jim asked, but it was just to buy time.

"We all risked our careers, our whole lives, on bringing you back from the dead, and you go and try to un-do all that work right away," Bones said quietly. "If it's to get back at me – hell, that I can understand. I don't like it, but I can understand it. But the others – don't you know what it would do to them?"

"I don't want to die," Jim said, and for the first time in a while, he meant it. "I just want to sleep."

Bones shook his head. "Jim, I – I'm sorry – "

"Don't," Jim said. "Don't. I don't want to hear it."

"Dammit, but I want to say it."

"You know why I didn't have Scotty comm you?" Jim asked. "Because if I'd seen you, I would have died begging for you to save me. And I knew you wouldn't be able to, and I didn't want to die with that look on your face being the last thing I ever saw. Didn't want to die knowing I'd disappointed you again." It all flooded out, everything he'd wanted to say, everything he'd kept locked up. "I was selfish, selfish as hell at the end, but that's not how I wanted it remembered. I wanted to die a hero. And you didn't let me."

"I'm always supposed to be able to save you," Bones said wearily. "I knew, I just knew as soon as I started, that you'd be pissed at me. I knew you'd never forgive me. But it was worth it." He smiled ruefully down at Jim. "You're free to go in a few hours, Chapel'll discharge you when it's time. I haven't slept in – in a while. I was just going off duty when you woke up. Comm me if you need anything." He turned and left without another word.

When Jim left sick bay, it was gamma shift. The corridors were dim and deserted in their pale imitation of night, and Jim walked until he ended up on deck 12. Dr. Leonard H. McCoy. He didn't know where else to go.

He pressed the panel, expecting to hear the chime, but the doors slid open. Bones hadn't removed his bio-sign from the door, hadn't locked Jim out even after all these weeks.

Bones didn't stir as Jim stepped in and let the doors shut behind him. Jim felt his eyelids get heavy at the sight of Bones, shirtless in bed, the lines around his eyes smoothed out, the blanket twisted around his legs. He walked up to the bed and, after a split-second of thought, lifted the blanket and crawled in. He left space between them, holding himself stiff on his side, staring into Bones's face.

"Hrmm," Bones said, his eyes fluttering open. "What."

"It's me," Jim said unnecessarily.

"No shit," Bones muttered, and his eyes were clouded, lines creasing his forehead. They hadn't been this close to each other in a while and Jim felt the heat radiating off Bones in tense waves.

"I don't forgive you," Jim said.

"I know."

"But I want to try," Jim continued. "Really try. And I – I want this."

"I don't even know what _this_ is anymore," Bones said, and his voice caught on the last word.

"Me neither," Jim said, and he wanted to laugh, but he had forgotten how. "Mostly I want to sleep."

"Okay," Bones said, and somehow it was enough, for now. Jim relaxed, fractionally, and pressed against Bones. Bones snaked one hand around his waist and pulled him closer. They didn't kiss; it was a work in progress. But finally, finally, finally, Jim fell asleep.


End file.
